Brother
by A. G. Moria
Summary: After being left for dead in the Fishman District for a couple of years now, Arlong finds a reason to go on for much longer a hard thing to come by. Well, Fisher Tiger said that he would protect his brothers of the Fishman District and he'd always keep to his word. No matter how much his one brother doesn't want to let others in.


**This was mainly just a short, little piece of a story that I got around to finishing today, and I had the idea of posting it scrambling around in my brain for a while now. So here it is, finished and posted for all to read.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The first time Fisher Tiger called him "Brother", Arlong almost forgot how to breathe.

"W...what"? He stuttered, wiped at the blood that splattered his chin, the blood that may or may have not been his own. "What'd you...what"?

Tiger rolled his eyes, then smiled. "You got blood in your ear or something? I said, it'd be best if we got out of here before more pirates showed up". He paused and looked closer at the boy. "Seems like you're bleedin' awful good on your arm there".

Arlong frowned, absently inspected the thick red cut that ran from the back of his elbow to his wrist, it dripped steadily onto the dead ground. After a moment, his gaze returned to Tiger.

"No, no, after that. What did you...call me"? The words were almost accusatory, but Tiger read past the cutting tone and heard the hesitancy behind it, a trait he'd never seen within Arlong before this moment. He licked his lips, answered slow and soft.

"Brother. I called you brother".

Arlong's jaw jumped and he shut his eyes tight against the tidal wave that word brought with it. He huffed out a breath, blinked fast to hide the moisture, convinced himself it's not there. Nothing to hide, nothing to think about. Come on now Arlong, just let this one go, let it slide off your shoulders and mingle with all the death around you. Let it stay there. Instead, the question burst forth, small and broken and a lot sadder than he'd expected it to be.

"Why…"?!

"Why what, Arlong"? Tiger returned, eyebrows scrunched in genuine confusion. He didn't understand the reaction, couldn't wrap his head around this new, vulnerable side of the fearless boy that he'd come to know in these past few years in the Fishman District

Arlong sighed, exasperated. Thought about dropping it. Couldn't.

"Don't ever call me that again," He seethed, anger suddenly becoming the most prominent of his warring emotions. "I'm no ones brother. I've never had a real family and I don't want one. That's why you, everyone else here and I are living in this dead end part of Fishman Island. I don't need anyone that's just going to dump me back here, you got that"?

Fisher Tiger blinked, nodded his head. "Yeah okay, Arlong. Still, it be best if we got away from the area where these pirates want to come and kill us, right? Come on, gotta get you patched up anyway, gotta keep moving".

Arlong grudgingly agreed; he knew his cut would heal better if someone else with better knowledge for cleaning wounds fixed up his arm.

The pair continued on in silence for a long time, made uneasy not only by the fleeting shadows that danced across the broken down buildings they pasted by, but by the way Arlong's shoulders seemed to collapsed in on themselves, creating a barricade against everything, against his only ally in this dark, dead world.

Tiger observed, curious but mostly concerned. He didn't break the silence however, didn't risk another outburst from this somewhat terrifying boy who seemed to carry the world on his back.

* * *

As the two continued their walk, Arlong burrowed further and further into himself, letting his mind go where he hadn't yet allowed it to since not knowing what would happen next in his miserable, little life.

_Brother… _

_Family…_

_Where…? Where is… my family…?_

He let the words fill him, let the loss slowly seep its way into his soul and tear at the heart he'd kept safely locked away since being thrown into the Fishman District as a very young child.

Eyes burned, he blinked back the memories, the things he couldn't afford to remember. Deep breaths now Arlong, or they might be your last. Focus on what's here in front of you now. Don't waste your time on the impossible. Don't waste your time on the things that are already gone.

Gone.

In the blink of an eye, in the span of a moment.

Arlong shook his head, turned away from his father's face in his mind, and instead caught the eye of his newest companion, the one who didn't even compare. But if he wanted to survive, if he wanted a way out, then he knew that Fisher Tiger was his best bet.

"We should stop for a second," Fisher Tiger said gruffly, "I know it'd be better if I had some actual cleansing stuff to clean your arm up with, but it's still a little ways away till we reach my house".

Arlong nodded, resting against the nearest building while he took off his jacket and allowed Tiger to treat his wound, cleaning it by using a small bottle of peroxide he had on him.

"_Most people in the District seem to be carrying more of those kinds of bottles nowadays…" _The young lad thought to himself for a small moment.

"So Arlong," Tiger started, trying to keep his mind off the steady flow of blood cascading from his new comrade's arm and trying to clean it. "Who's waiting for you when I get done patching you up? You got some kinda daddy or distant relative or someone here in the District that you've got to get back to"?

Arlong tilted his head towards the older Fishman, narrowed his blue eyes. "Sorry, not really the sharing and caring kinda guy. Just gimme another minute here". He watched as Tiger tore off a piece of his shirt sleeve and wrapped it around the thickest part of the cut, wiped it once the blood slowly started congealing.

"Yeah alright," Tiger replied easily. He then paused. "You know I used to have a momma and a daddy once. Years ago now. Hard to let something like that go, you know? Even after all these years I still think about them. Momma was one hell of a gal while daddy was a respected man around the entire island. Makes me sad when I start to think of how such good people could've lost their lives in such a gruesome manner".

Arlong merely nodded. "I'm ready to move now".

Silence becomes a third companion once more as the evening hours start to set in and the area around them began to get darker and darker.

Arlong didn't miss the stories of sun as much as he missed the stories of the stars that his own father used to tell him. The ones his father promised the two of them would lay beneath on a warm summer nights one day, stretched out along a grassy field without a care in the world.

And the longer Arlong went without seeing that familiar silhouette of his dad's, the farther away he felt from his chance of ever learning how to make it in this crazy, messed up world. Now that scared him, made him restless.

Made him careless.

* * *

After finding out that the little, beat-up boy really had nowhere to go, Fisher Tiger had allowed him to stay with him until the boy found better footing than the one he had before. It seemed like a week later, but it was nearly impossible to tell from the always grey surroundings above them. Arlong and Tiger walked side by side, pipes that were supposed to be defensive weapons gripped casually in their hands, eyes constantly sweeping their surroundings.

"So you say your old man was as stubborn as you are then"? Tiger laughed a little as Arlong recounted yet another story about his father.

Telling about how his father used to behave and the way he tried to get along with his son really brought something of a tiny smile on Arlong's face. Tiger knew this and let him continue telling these stories but stopped him when he knew that one more tale would bring Arlong to tears.

"His name is Varraad," The young Fish-boy replied automatically. He paused mid-stride, scuffed the dust from his shoes absently. "Yeah he's... he's one hell of a man but at the same time, one hell of a screw-up," He said after a while.

"Sounds like it," Tiger replied, but his easy smile quickly becomes a shout of warning as he turned to see a human pirate directly behind Arlong. There was no time for the young lad to react before the human brought him down, a spiked club already buried in the soft skin of his neck, allowing a heap of blood to escape from the boy.

Arlong let out a gurgled scream, thrashing violently, his pipe having been thrown from his hand at the human's onslaught and just out of reach. Blood coats his skin, streaming from an open wound, and the human was far from finished. Arlong felt his strength start to ebb, recognized the effects of blood-loss as his eyes slip closed. He is only distantly aware of the sudden absence of weight, the screaming in his ear. And then all he knows is darkness.

* * *

"Arlong. Arlong, open your eyes. Come on now, time to wake up".

"Daddy…"? Deep down Arlong knew the voice didn't belong to his father. The absence of the smell of alcohol in the person's breath, docile inflection- it's all wrong. But his father is still the first thing that spilled from his lips as he made his way back to the surface.

He let his eyelids flutter, not ready to open them yet. Not ready to return to where he knew he was. He can smell the putrid odor of death, can taste the blood mingled with already contaminated air. The Fishman District, his exhausted mind provides. He was still in the Fishman District.

Fuck it.

Arlong flew awake, hands clawed desperately for a weapon of some kind, surprised he wasn't dead already. His search was halted by a rough hand that pushed him back down. Arlong panicked for a second and twisted violently, but then he registered the gentleness of the gesture, the soothing voice sliding its way through his jumbled mind.

"Easy now Arlong, nice and easy," Fisher Tiger instructed, keeping a firm hand on the young boy's chest, preventing him from getting up.

"Killed the human scum"? Arlong asked, he practically coughed out the words.

"Yeah I got 'em," Tiger smiled to show the boy a little more reassurance. "Let's get you vertical, eh? You gonna waste the whole day napping or what"?

"Shut up," Arlong grunted, but allowed Tiger to help him slowly to his feet. Vision swimming slightly, he felt for the still pulsating wound at his neck, paused as his fingers glaze over a makeshift bandage.

"You patched me up with a bunch of goddamned newspapers"? Arlong smirked with slight irritation and slight amazement.

"It was either that or finish you off myself," Tiger joked.

Arlong frowned. Nodded.

"Yeah, guess I owe you one, huh"? He muttered, expression thoughtful.

"Tell you what, you grow up and live your life the way you want to live it and we'll call it even," Tiger replied, then patted the young boy a bit on the back.

Arlong stiffened slightly but then nodded again, moved to pick up the rusty pipe he had abandoned earlier.

"Hey uhh... thanks, Tiger".

"Anytime, brother".

"Yeah… thanks, brother".

* * *

**Ah, yes the ending for a cute little story right after the craziness of one of the most known holidays of the year.**

**Well, I bet for a lot of people the craziness continues or never ends, and I happen to be one of those people. I'm heading up to my grandparents for the rest of the year (literally) and this is the last story that I'll post until then.**

**Although, I might update a few stories that I have but even that might be a hit or a miss.**

**Alright, later!**


End file.
